C'mon! Scratch the itch!

I stand here every morning, looking up at that top shelf, meowing down the hall for attention. I needs me some of that sweet, sweet Nip! The scent drives me mad, and when I'm this close I can practically taste it.
Then I try getting up on the coffee table. Something about having the baggie in eyeshot is a bit of relief; just knowing it is there means sooner or later I'm going to get some. I stare and stare, and get lost in fantasies of opposable thumbs, stilts, and velvet lounge pillows. Why won't they listen and fix me up whenever I want?! Why!?!